


Dolce by Della Reese

by CaptClockwork



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Because Kravitz is death, Canonical Character Death, Coffee Shops, Fluff, M/M, Minor Barry Bluejeans/Lup, Minor Julia Burnsides/Magnus Burnsides, Mutual Pining, Promise, Romantic Soulmates, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 10:43:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13188420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptClockwork/pseuds/CaptClockwork
Summary: If you had asked him what his brand looked like, Kravitz would have been unable to answer. After all, the mark had faded away the day he was accepted into the Raven Queen's service. Taako, however, knew exactly what he had, a black raven disturbed by a single slash, the universally understood sign that your soul’s mate had died. Both had given up on the idea of possibly having someone out there fated to them. But when Taako gets a job at the cafe the grim reaper frequents, well, fate may decide to prove them both wrong.





	Dolce by Della Reese

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ApplejuiceAce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApplejuiceAce/gifts).



> Happy Candlenights to YeoulStarburry, my secret santa for this year's TAZ secret santa exchange! It's not late, I just celebrate my Candlenights a week later than most ~~and it's not at all because I am a mess of a lady who doesn't properly schedule out her life~~.
> 
> Thanks so much for being patient, and I hope you like the story. You said you'd like a Soulmate AU or a Coffee Shop AU and I couldn't decide so I just went ahead and gave you both, with just a dash of pining on the side as you mentioned it's one of your favorite flavors.

Every soul brand was special. They weren’t just random symbols and splashes of color, they meant something that was private to just the two that shared its likeness. Magnus, for example, absolutely loved telling anyone he could make listen about his brand. 

“See, see, look! It’s a ferris wheel!” He’d shout, pulling off his white glove to show the back of his hand where a cartoonish pink ferris wheel was tattooed into his skin, the image unmarred by the tanned skin underneath it. “Jules and I met at a carnival! I was working as an animal attendant, I didn’t even put two and two together at the time! And here comes the most beautiful woman in the world, asking me about the comfort of the show dogs…”

From puberty onward, when the blur of color on your hand became a fully fledged picture, everyone wanted to know who their mate was. There were dating sites and hip bars all dedicated to finding someone with the same brand as you. Anyone who was single was sure to keep their hand uncovered, showing it to anyone who could see on the off chance that they would recognize it and Know.

That’s what Lup always did. For most of her teen years she was sure to show off the brand, surrounding her fingers in stylish and shiny rings to draw the eye towards her hand. Her brand was of a grey and rather macabre looking skull that she somehow always pulled off like some sort of fashion statement, tying it in to all her outfits. Lup always joked about how she was probably going to end up landed with some goth. 

It was really a shock to Taako and Lup both when she brought home a round and nervous looking nerd, complete with big glasses and a horrible affinity for denim. Barry was studying Theoretical Necromancy at the university they attended, and while Lup was originally studying Evocation, she eventually decided to double major with Theoretical Necromancy. Taako didn’t get it, but it seemed to make Lup happy and so he dealt with her and Barry cluttering their kitchen table with books and experiments every weekend. She fell in love with Barry just as much as she did the subject of Necromancy, and the two were barely separable. 

As for Taako, well, he was unique. Like always, of course. See, most people needed someone else, another person to make them whole. Taako, he didn’t need that garbage. He always had Lup and the rest of those chucklefucks he called friends, but in the end he didn’t need anyone else. And his brand agreed. Sure, Taako waited eagerly just like any young kid to see what would become of his brand when he turned of age. But on his 70th birthday, while Lup saw an unmarked skull, Taako instead saw a inky black raven disturbed by a single slash, a scar that shone palely against his dark olive skin. This scar, everyone knew, was the sign that your soul’s mate had died. 

Sure, Taako was sad for a couple of decades, but he was able to bounce back. His mate was most likely some crazy necromancy cultist, anyway. Why else would he have the Raven Queen’s symbol as his brand? That’s probably how he got himself killed in the first place. Nah, Taako didn’t need all that. All he needed was himself, and himself alone. 

At first he started wearing a dark glove over that hand, the universal symbol that your mate has died, but he couldn’t stand the awful looks of pity, like Taako had something to be pitied over. So, he started wearing a white glove instead, the glove that Magnus and Lup many folks like them adopted once they found their mate. When people asked about his mate, he would have a hilarious time making up elaborate stories about some handsome man who was always flying off to exotic locations for business. It was much simpler, and Taako prefered living his life this way. He had friends, like Magnus and Barry. He had his twin sister, Lup. He even had a kickass boss, Merle, although you couldn’t tell him that without his ego going through the roof. Yeah, he was much better off this way. He didn’t need anyone else messing up the good thing he had going for him. 

\-------------

It was funny, the things you could forget after a millennium. If you had asked him 110 years ago what his brand looked like, Kravitz would have shrugged. After all, the mark had faded away long, long ago. 

He did have one, once, a very long time ago now. It had only been on his skin for fifteen years or so before he died, a jet black raven that showed up starkly against his deep brown skin. He cherished the mark ever since his 13th birthday, proudly displaying it throughout his village. He did get some whispers. After all, he was carrying the mark of the Raven Queen. But Kravitz didn’t mind. Whoever his soul’s mate was, he was sure they were the right fit, even if they may worship the Goddess of Death. 

See, he wasn’t a very religious man before his death. Sure, his family came from a long line of Istus worshipers, but his head was too filled with the here and now to be worried overly much with worshiping those he couldn’t see. It wasn’t until he lay dying, his village razed to the ground, that he gave anymore thought to the Goddess of Death. And in return, the Goddess of Death decided to give him much more than mere thoughts. The last thing he saw as a man among the living was the kind eyes of a woman covered in shining dark feathers. 

His form as the Raven Queen’s bounty hunter was fluid, something he could change at will. But his default state was always his own body as he remembered it when he had been alive. The only thing that was consistently missing was his brand. He was upset, at first, confused as to where it could have gone. Was the mark just meant to symbolize that he would one day become a emissary of the Raven Queen? Did he not have a true soul’s mate? He was unsure. 

In the end, the matter was pushed to the backburner and slowly faded away over time. He became more and more convinced that he was simply mateless, destined to be bound to the Raven Queen and his duty as the reaper of souls. And while the childhood dreams of having someone to love still crackled in the back of his mind now and again, he was not disappointed with the way his life (and death) turned out. He was happy working for the Raven Queen. She was a kind deity, once you got past all the death, and his job gave him a vital purpose in the world. He was satisfied, for the most part, and paid little mind to the empty space on his hand. 

That was, until about 110 years ago. It was during one night of mindless paperwork, shuffling through the daily deceased, when he first saw it. It was like a blinding light on the back of his hand, the skin glowing in the long forgotten shape of a raven. The light settled and there, on the back of his hand, was his brand, settled against his skin like it had never left. 

Kravitz simply stared for a long while, his brain quiet on the matter. It was like he couldn’t comprehend, as if he was dreaming, if he ever did that sort of thing. Why had his brand appeared again so suddenly? What could it mean? Kravitz had half a mind to convene with the Raven Queen to ask for her insight, but, no, he couldn’t bother her with such a foolish - and personal - matter. Still, it was something he had difficulty puzzling out on his own. How should he proceed, knowing his soul’s mate might actually be out there?

Eventually, he did find himself spending more time in the prime material plane. It wasn’t like he wasn’t allowed; after all, the Raven Queen encouraged him to spend his free time as he wished. It was just strange, watching the world change so rapidly around him. Nothing was recognizable anymore. The world’s landscape had completely changed while he had his back turned, and it was nerve wracking to make a place in its fast paced rhythm. But, ever since his brand reappeared, he found himself making more of an effort.

It wasn’t as if he actually thought that he would really find his soul’s mate. After all, most living beings existed in this plane for such a short time. He was more likely to find them searching through the souls of the astral plane than in the prime material plane, and that’s if he truly had a mate at all. Still, he couldn’t help the little thrill he got every time he passed someone on the street with an uncovered hand, craning his neck to see a glimpse of their brand before they walked away. 

He couldn’t make himself visit the various haunting grounds that were set up for branded folks who hadn’t found their mate. Too many people, with their eyes all on him expectantly, he wouldn’t be able to stand it. No, he preferred to wear the black glove that symbolized the passing of a mate. It kept people from asking questions, which is what he preferred. He knew, in the end, if his mate was out there, he would be able to spot the mark on their uncovered hand. Then, he could take off his glove and explain himself. If they were truly his mate they would understand, surely. 

Finding his soul’s mate may have honestly the first reason he started making regular recreational trips to the prime material plane, but over time, as decades passed without finding anyone marked by a raven, his mate started again to fall to the back of his mind. He instead appreciated the sort of routine he was able to build up, a steady rhythm that he enjoyed keeping up whenever his work permitted. Almost every Sunday afternoon, for example, he would make his way to _The Warhorse’s Barn_ , a little hole in the wall that served warm food and soft jazz, a combination of things that never failed to make him feel content. 

He also started a habit of tackling his mountain of paperwork at _Dolce by Della Reese_ , a coffee and tea shop nestled away on a quiet side street in Neverwinter. It was a place mostly for students from the local university to cram for exams, but he tended to blend right in with the rest of them, taking up an entire table with his various workloads, the paper charmed to be illegible to passers by. 

The owner, an older Dwarven man by the name of Merle, seemed to take a liking to him. He always had a word of gossip about how his tea leaves were growing this season whenever he saw Kravitz walk in. Kravitz also always noticed an extra scone at his elbow during especially long evenings with tall, teetering piles of files. Merle was always quiet about it, but he could tell the Dwarf had a fondness for his most regular customer, and Kravitz in turn enjoyed the light discussions that always seemed to bookend his visits to the cafe. 

Kravitz had a routine, and Merle knew it just as well as he did He would always come into the shop around five o’clock in the evening on Mondays and Wednesdays. He always ordered a plain black coffee, hot, with three spoonfuls of sugar. Merle usually had it ready for him, sitting at the pickup counter in the same polished pink teacup that he seemed to always reserve just for Kravitz. 

It was relaxing, one steady constant in his otherwise chaotic and unpredictable lifestyle. That’s why, on this particular Monday, it was especially jarring to see his pink teacup filled with...well, with something that wasn’t plain black coffee. It was piled high with whipped cream, for one, making its contents inscrutable. The whipped cream was covered in something that looked like cinnamon and the whole thing was giving off a warm spiced aroma. He picked it up slowly in confusion, careful as he did so not to disturb the wobbling pile of cream. He looked up at the counter, confused. Maybe they accidentally put someone else’s order into his usual cup? 

It wasn’t Merle whose gaze answered back but a young elf’s. His long blond hair was tied back into a thick braid and his ears were covered in gold piercings. He had on a deep purple apron, which somehow only seemed to make him look more fashionable and went well with the warmth of his skin. He grinned playfully when he caught Kravitz’s eyes. 

“Yeah, you must be Kravitz then, the ol’ _black coffee with tons of sugar_ boy. Merle told me to set you up.” He said in a peculiar, lilting voice. The elf’s eyes raked up and down Kravitz’s form, taking in his clean and tailored suit, all black. The same clothes that he normally wore in the prime material plane. His eyes stopped briefly at the black glove on his hand, but thankfully he made no show that he had noticed. 

Kravitz cleared his throat. “Uh, yes, that is my usual order, um…” He peered at the elf’s name tag, which showed the name _Taako_ written in a looping calligraphy. “Taako.” 

He looked down again at the pile of cream in a cup he was holding and hastily put it down. “I’m sorry, I’m assuming this is someone else’s order.” 

“No, no,” Taako assured him with a playful smile. “That’s yours. No man who takes three spoonfuls of sugar truly wants just a plain black coffee.” 

“Um, I’m pretty sure I do, actually.” Kravitz insisted, feeling a bit annoyed that this stranger was just assuming his preferences. 

“Truuust me, my dude, just try it!” Taako goaded, gesturing to the teacup between them. “You’re going to love it. And if you don’t, I’ll make you your miserable excuse of a coffee order. Deal?”

Kravitz sighed. But if this was the only way he was going to get his normal coffee order, than so be it. He lifted the cup gingerly to his lips, his nose pressing lightly into the cream. The coffee was spicy and sweet and rolled down his throat like honey, warming him to the core. The warm sensation stayed with him even after he had lowered the cup, curling in his chest like a shot of whiskey. He was still experiencing the taste of the coffee on his tongue, a pleasant lingering sweetness. 

He laughed, the sound coming out more like a gust of wind from his nose. 

“I, uh, wow, yeah.” He laughed softly again, licking his lips to chase the now fading flavor. “That was actually a really good cup of coffee.”

“See, I told ya.” Taako replied, sounding triumphant, although the image was ruined slightly by the smile that was slowly breaking over his face, like he was trying to hold back a laugh. 

“You, uh, you got some whipped cream,” He informed him, tapping him on the nose with one finger. The finger came back covered in thick cream. 

“Oh,” Kravitz started, grabbing one of the napkins from the dispenser on the counter. “Thanks, sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize, handsome.” Taako replied easily. “I always love to see people enjoying my work.” 

_Handsome?_ Him? With that, Kravitz reflexively looked at Taako’s hand. A white glove covered the elf’s brand, gold bangles adoring his wrist. So, he was just being friendly then. Kravitz felt a little deflated but he tried not to let it show, giving Taako a genuine smile. 

“Yeah, this stuff is amazing.” He insisted. “ I never really thought to try any of the other, uh, weirder flavors. Though, Merle is always trying to get me to drink his new teas.”

“Oh, I would definitely take him up on that offer, that shit is delish.” Taako leaned in conspiratorial. “Just don’t ask him how he gets his Oolong so sweet. Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

\-------------

And so on it went. Next time Kravitz visited _Dolce_ Taako had another unusual coffee selection for him to try. It was always different and always more delicious than the last. After a couple of weeks, after seeing how long the man usually stayed, Taako started pairing his drink selections with a variety of different baked goods. These, somehow, were even more delicious than the coffees. 

Kravitz remembered the first time he tried Taako’s true baking. He had just come off of a particularly tricky case involving a necromancy cult, a group that came close to breaking 50 in it’s number, and each individual required their own set of paperwork. He had arrived at the cafe a bit earlier than usual and he knew he would be their right up until their late closing. 

He didn’t even notice Taako setting the plate by his arm with a flourish. 

“Quit working so much and feast yourself on _this_!” He said loudly, finally breaking Kravitz out of his concentration. The reaper looked down at the baked good, a huge slice of lemon tart, topped off with a healthy dollop of whipped cream which seemed to find its way into most of the things Taako made for him. 

He looked up into Taako’s expectant face, his eyes heavy. He wasn’t tired per say, seeing as he didn’t truly need sleep, but his mind was completely exhausted and he didn’t really have much room in his brain for anything more than the rest of the work he needed to complete. Taako, however, was obviously not going to leave until Kravitz had a bite. So, he grabbed the fork and broke off a piece, shoving it into his mouth quickly, eyes turning back already to his papers. 

He paused, however, when the flavor finally hit him. Sweet, with just the right amount of tang, and he could almost sense rather than taste the bitterness from the crust. He could feel a warm tingle, something that opened his eyes, made them feel just a tad bit lighter. He couldn’t tell if it was the sharp lemon or if the tart was imbued with any sort of mild charm, but either way it made him feel more alert than he had in days. He made a strange noise, something like a sigh, and looked up again at the elf. 

‘Gods above, Taako, what are you doing in a coffee shop?” He gushed reflexively. “This is absolutely divine! You should be in your own bakery. How long did it even take to learn to make something like this?”

Taako looked genuinely shocked for a moment, his eyes going soft in response to the prase. He cleared his throat, pulling himself together and slapping on his carefree smile one again. 

“Oh, you know, I like to dabble. I’m a man of many talents.” 

“Well, if you’re as good at anything else as you are with baking, you must be a force to be reckoned with.” Kravitz replied honestly. “Thanks for giving me a slice, it definitely perked me up a bit.”

Taako waved away his thanks with one movement of his hand, his bangles jingling merrily. “Oh, it’s just so boring watching you always working yourself to death every time you come here. What are you working on, anyway.” He squinted down at the paperwork he had laid out. He must have recognized that the papers were charmed to be obscured to other readers because he laughed and said “Oh, I see. One of those ‘If I told you, I’d have to kill you’ dealios, huh?” 

Kravitz actually laughed heartily at that, probably more than he should have because Taako gave him a strange look. He realized that in the context of the conversation it might seem a little creepy. 

“No, no, I, uh. It’s just private, is all. Client confidentiality, and all.” He lied quickly. 

Taako hummed, obviously aware that Kravitz wasn’t telling the whole truth but willing to let it go for now. “Alright then, handsome. Whatever you say.” He smiled, a bit soft, and pushed the plate with the rest of the tart closer towards Kravitz. “Eat, and I’ll be around later to refill your coffee.”

\-------------

Kravitz’s interactions with Taako eventually became longer as time went on. Usually, Kravitz would end up staying until closing and the two would chat as Taako made his preparations to close up shop and Kravitz put the finishing touches on his work. His time at the cafe was quickly becoming more than just an enjoyed routine and instead turning into the thing he looked forward to most in his week. He even started coming in on Fridays, enjoying listening to Taako ramble on about his plans for the weekend. 

Kravitz was more on top of his paperwork than ever before, but this was just because it was his only excuse to sit for long hours at the _Dolce_ without seeming like a creep. Because, yeah, Taako was friendly and may even consider Kravitz to be a close acquaintance, but in the end that’s all he would ever be. 

If Kravitz was being completely honest with himself, he knew the reason why he loved to spend his time at the cafe. For the first time since he was alive, the reaper was developing a crush. And what an awful crush it was. Taako, while handsome and witty and interesting as all get out, was obviously fated to someone else. 

Taako never talked about his mate and Kravitz never had the guts to ask, but he must have one. Maybe he was just private about his romantic life? Sure, he talked about his sister and brother-in-law a ton, but maybe this was one thing he wanted to keep to himself? Or maybe, Kravitz would think sometimes when his thoughts would turn depreciative, he could sense Kravitz’s feelings and just didn’t want to hurt his feelings by gushing too much about how in love he was with someone else. Oh, gods, wouldn’t that just be the most embarrassing thing ever. 

Really, he just tried not to think about it. Taako seemed to enjoy their long talks, at least, and in the end Kravitz could live with that. Yes, his little crush stewed in the background of his mind, but honestly, spending time getting to know Taako was just as good as anything else. 

\-------------

“I can’t believe you’ve _never_ seen Star Trek!” Taako exclaimed, waving the espresso machine’s filter around to emphasize his words.

It was night, and all the patrons of the little cafe had long since left. Except for Kravitz, of course. He was leaning against the counter, watching Taako wrestle with unclogging the shop’s espresso machine while he helped dry off the dishes they had just washed. Kravitz enjoyed this, helping Taako close up shop while they talked about whatever came to mind. Even if, right now, his lack of pop culture knowledge was once again coming under fire.  
“I would have thought it would be right up your alley,” Taako continued, hands still fiddling with the machine’s insides. “After all, you look like you’d go for that sort of nerd stuff.” 

“Hey! What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?” Kravitz asked, his tone colored by mock offense. 

Taako snorted, shifting to look at Kravitz directly. “It means, dude, that- well, look at you!” He waved the filter again, the motion encompassing Kravitz’s general form. “You just scream ‘I never got out of my goth phase, I just made it look more professional’.” He continued before Kravitz could protest further. “Not that I’m saying I don’t dig it. You make all black look damn good. I’m just sayin’, it’s nerdy as hell."

“I thought you just said it’s goth,” Kravitz pointed out, face threatening to break out into a smile. “You have to make up your mind.”

“Man, all goths are nerds,” Taako insisted, turning back to his work. “Nerd is more than a dress sense, it’s a way of life. Ask my brother-in-law, he’s the master of- Oh, fuck!”

The elf quickly stepped back from the espresso machine as steaming hot coffee shot out in a jet, spraying the floor in a black mess. Taako ran to the sink, swearing a blue streak as he cradled his hand. 

Kravitz put down the dish he was holding and rushed over to Taako. Kravitz helped him turn on the sink, pushing his hands under the lukewarm water. His white glove was stained brown now, steam still coming off of it in placed. He winced in sympathy, thinking of the burns the man was most likely going to have. He made a move to peel off the glove so they could get to the injured skin underneath. Taako flinched automatically, making to pull away from his hands, but then settled, accepting his care. 

He slowly rolled down the soaked and ruined cloth, careful not to injure the skin underneath. He was busy assessing the injury, still keeping the hand under the steady stream of water. It wasn’t until the glove was completely off that he even thought to pay any mind to the brand, and even then it was only because it was so strikingly familiar. 

There it was. A black raven, only instead of being whole as it was on his hand, it was instead marred by a thick pale scar that cut diagonally through the image. Kravitz simply stared for a moment, his hands stilling. It was much like the first time he had seen his own brand reappear on his skin, his mind quiet with shock. 

Taako made a frustrated noise and pulled his hand away. 

“Yes, yes, very sad and all that. If you’re not going to help, you might as well go home.” He spit out angrily, cradling his scarred hand close to his chest. 

“What?” Kravitz said, blinking at the elf in confusion while his thoughts reformed. “No, no. You don’t understand.” 

“I understand perfectly well,” Taako began, but Kravitz was already hurriedly making to pull off his own glove. 

Kravitz wrenched off the cloth, throwing it to the ground and thrusting his hand in front of Taako’s eyes so he could see his own black raven, whole against his skin. 

“Wait- I don’t- What?” Taako exclaimed, his mind obviously moving faster than he could keep up with. “How is that possible? I don’t- No, really, how?” 

Taako grabbed for his branded hand, his wound momentarily forgotten. His thumb ran over the image, like he needed to make sure it wasn’t painted on. 

“I thought you were dead.” Taako muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He was still looking down at Kravitz’s hand, so the reaper couldn’t get a true hold of his expression. “All this time.” 

Kravitz looked at the crown of Taako’s head for a long moment, taking in every subtle shade of his blond hair. He let everything sink in, the fact that his mate though he was dead. How did he not realize that was bound to happen? He felt a terrible pull in his chest, the awful realization that Taako lived his whole life never knowing his soul’s mate was desperate to meet him. Thinking he was alone all this time.

His eyes burned and he blinked. 

“Taako, I’m so sorry,” Kravitz said, his voice quiet with emotion. “I should have realized, I never thought about the fact that my mate’s brand might be scarred.”

Taako finally looked up. His eyes were shining, but he looked determined for answers. 

“ _Why_? Why is it like this? Did- did you have a real serious near death experience or something?” 

Kravitz bit the inside of his cheek nervously, thinking of how to proceed. 

“Something like that. I uh, well, I did die.” He explained awkwardly. He noticed that his own thumb was running circles against the skin of Taako’s wrist, and the repetitive movement calmed him somewhat. “A very, very long time ago. You see, when I died, the Raven Queen chose me to be one of her emissaries.”

“Bullshit,” Taako insisted. “Prove it.”

Kravitz blinked, not expecting this conversation to go this way. 

“I’m sorry, prove it?” He asked. 

“Yeah. Where’s your spooky death man getup?” Taako explained, looking unconvinced. “The scythe, and all that? Don’t tell me you just roll up to necromancers wearing a suit and tie.” 

“Oh!” Kravitz was pleased. At least this would be easy. He let go of Taako’s hands and snapped his fingers, his scythe appearing in his grip. When he touched it, his mortal form melted away like wax, revealing the skeleton beneath. 

“Is this what you meant?”

Taako’s eyes were wide, and he let out a shocked, disbelieving laugh. 

“Uh, yeah, something like that is more what I had in mind.”

Kravitz let go of the scythe and it along with the skeleton appearance faded away. He felt uncomfortable now, having shown someone such a huge but hidden part of himself. Taako’s expression was more or less blank, and Kravitz was desperate for this to go well. 

He gripped Taako’s hands in his own once again, continuing with his story in a quick rush of breath, nervous about how Taako was going to respond. 

“So, yes, I died, but thanks to the Raven Queen I was able to live on. The thing is, when my mortal body died, my brand disappeared. I thought, for so long, that I didn’t have a mate. That I was just fated to always be nothing more than a Reaper. But then, a bit more than 100 years ago, my brand came back. I’m guessing this was most likely when you were born. I’ve been wondering and looking ever since, trying to catch a glimpse of someone with the same mark. I wasn’t even sure if they were really out there!” 

Kravitz paused, catching his breath. 

“But now I’ve found you. I’m so sorry for all the pain this caused you, but I’m so damn happy to finally be able to meet you.”

Kravitz looked back into Taako’s unreadable expression, his stomach sinking.

“I, uh, I hope you are too.” Kravitz ended, biting the inside of his cheek nervously. 

Taako snoted. “Well, duh. Of course I am.” And, finally, a small soft smile formed on his lips. 

“I’m just, well, in a whole lot of pain right now.” Taako admitted, gesturing down to his hand. 

Kravitz immediately let go, finally remembering the injury that had set this all off in the first place. He was sure that gripping onto Taako’s hands wasn’t helping things. The skin had started to blister slightly, patches of pale and angry red covering most of the elf’s skin. It looked pretty miserable.

“I’ll try to see if Merle’s still awake,” Taako went on. “Hit him up for some of that healing magic he’s always going on about.” 

“No need,” Kravitz insisted, reaching out to grab the hand again, much more gently this time. “May I?”

Taako nodded, looking intrigued. 

Kravitz took the hand in both of his own, covering where the wounds had manifested. He closed his eyes and took from his rather large pool of happiness that was building in his chest. He hummed, a soft tune that he still remembered from his childhood. Under his fingers, the blisters faded and the redness calmed. 

Taako sighed and Kravitz let go. 

“Better?” He asked, smiling fondly. 

“Dude,” Taako laughed. “Not only is my mate a gods honest grim reaper, he’s a fuckin’ _bard_ too? Pan on a bicycle, Lup is never going to let me hear the end of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Now that you've finished reading this I can finally tell you that I couldn't stop thinking about [this](https://youtu.be/V-fRuoMIfpw) the whole time I was writing this. I really couldn't bring myself to change anything, though. Maybe it brings a whole other beautiful layer to the thing, when viewed this way.


End file.
